The Two Times The Doctor Was Late
by 1000-black-birds
Summary: "Amelia Pond," he'd said, "just like a fairy-tale. " He's late again, but this time you close your eyes, and you wait.


You're cold, sitting out in the garden, and you fancy that there are things moving out in the bushes, just beyond your sight, but you haven't decided just yet whether they're the good sort of things, or the things that go bump in the night. You're waiting on the Doctor, and the sky is turning different colours as you watch.

He's late, and you're waiting.

_Amelia Pond_, he'd said, _just like a fairy-tale_, as he'd sat there like he was out of a story himself, in your ordinary kitchen, asking you if you liked beans and adventures.

You're only seven – far too old for fairy tales, but you liked the sound of that, and so you waited for him in the garden. He said he'd be only five minutes and then he'd come back and you'd have _adventures_. You liked the sound of that too, because it reminded you of a story you'd read just before bedtime, about a Roman soldier who went on adventures.

You worry that the apple you gave him with a face drawn on it scared him away, because maybe an apple a day _does_ keep the Doctor away. But that makes you giggle a little, and you know that's silly, because the Doctor promised he'd be _right_ back.

And the suitcase that you're sitting on is almost bursting, packed full of all the things you thought you'd need, because who knew what you might need on an adventure? Your oldest soft toy – so old and worn that your aunt had taken to calling him the _Raggedy Man_, had been tucked into the suitcase as well, as an after-thought. He was a small plush toy who stood sentry by your bed at night, but you'd had him as long as you could remember, and the Raggedy Man was coming with you.

You'd prayed for Santa to come and help fix the crack in your bedroom wall, because sometimes in the middle of the night there were strange noises from it, and it scared you, but your aunt had said it was just your imagination. But there was no way you could have imagined the Doctor, with his blue box and bowtie.

He'd promised only five minutes, and he was late.

But you sat there as the sky lightened, seven years old and impossibly cold from waiting in the garden the whole night - waiting for the Doctor that never came.

* * *

You're no longer seven, foolish enough to wait all night in the garden, and then spend the next twelve years waiting for the Doctor to come for you.

No, this time around you're a lot older but none the wiser, and you've waited thirty-six years, three months and four days for the Doctor to come for you.

You've waited in this living hell for thirty-six years by yourself, with no one save for the Interface, who was always there, running from the touch of the HandBots, which would have meant a certain death. Sometimes you ask the Interface to show you images of Earth, because you had no interest in seeing all of time and space anymore– you just wanted _home_. But your childhood home had long since crumbled to the ground, your family lay in graves, and all the places you once knew had changed in the years you've been stuck here, alone – and you realise that you have no home but by some paradox, the home that you _do _have is in the TARDIS with Rory and the Doctor. The thought of that makes you laugh – a _paradox_, of all things – one the Doctor would have enjoyed pulling apart.

The TARDIS was a time machine, and so you'd assumed they'd only be five minutes, and they'd be back to rescue you before you had time to become lonely, or grow old, bitter and angry. The thought of Rory and the Doctor coming to save you is your fiercest, most desperate dream, but you know that negating thirty six years of loneliness at the expense of being who you are now is something that you've grown to realise you can't do. You've been forged now, into something harder – someone much different, and the Amelia Pond who would have waited all night for a man in a blue box to come take her on adventures is long gone. And at times like that, after hearing _do not be alarmed, this is a kindness_ for years on end, you think that perhaps it _would_ be a kindness to let the HandBots erase you from existence.

You were promised a beautiful world – sunsets and spires, but had gotten a treatment facility for a plague that only affected two-hearted creatures. You only had one heart, and you fancied it was left with Rory, but that didn't stop you from feeling like perhaps you _were _dying a little each day. Instead, you'd distracted yourself with stories from the Interface, who showed you holograms of worlds out there that you hadn't seen where the skies were burning, worlds where the sea was asleep and the rivers dreamed – worlds where people were made of smoke and cities were made of song.

Years passed and you stopped waiting for the Raggedy Man and his blue box.

The HandBots were back again, having completed a circuit of the facility. _"Do not be alarmed, this is a kindness."_

For the girl who had waited, this was a kindness – the only kindness left for her. "Interface?"

"Yes, Amy Pond?"

You want to close your eyes for this _kindness_, but you keep them open, fixed on the blue sky above – the same shade of blue you had known so well, in another lifetime.

"Did I ever tell you about my two best friends?" You had, of course. The years had been long and desolate, and you had recounted most of your life, several times over to the Interface, before the memories had become too painful to revisit.

"_Do not be alarmed, this is a kindness." _The HandBots were closer, but this time, you weren't running from them.

"I loved both of them once. One took waited thousands of years for me, and the other promised me thousands of years of time and space. I thought that one day, I might perhaps grow old with them." The thought of them wasn't so painful anymore – you'd forgotten how much you loved being Amy Pond in the Tardis with Rory Williams.

The Interface was silent.

"_Do not be alarmed, this is a kindness."_

You close your eyes, and you wait.

* * *

The Doctor is panicking, pulling levers he's never pulled before on the console, but the TARDIS somehow always knows what he wants, and he's determined not to leave Amy Pond waiting any longer. The TARDIS materializes back into the treatment facility, and he vows to himself silently that this will be the last time he makes Amy Pond wait for him – he won't be late any more.

It's a mad rush, then, and Rory is there, looking pale but ready to take on another army for his Amy. The doors are flung open and Rory and the Doctor are pulling Amelia Pond back into the TARDIS and he's so relieved that he has his best friend back and that she's safe but Rory _knows_.

This Amy Pond looks exactly the same as the one they left in Appalapachia five minutes ago, but Rory knows this isn't the right one. There were two Amy's, two different time streams, and this wasn't the right one and now they're too _late _to save her.

It takes the Doctor takes a few moments longer than Rory to realise that _this is the wrong Amelia_, because perhaps even though he's known her all her life, he doesn't know her as well as he thought he did – or perhaps this is just one time too many that he's been late.


End file.
